Mio Amore
by emmaswanjones30
Summary: Small, (not really) kinda smutty, but sweet, one shot.


**I own nothing, I wish I did, I only own the...words I wrote to make this. This is my first ever attempt at (kinda) sex related fanfic, so please don't judge me too harshly, I tried to keep it sweet and I pray I did. The title is Italian meaning my love.**

 **Amore Mio  
**

 **3rd Person**

Killian's thumb traces her side, memorizing every curve, every freckle, mole and bump in her skin. He traces an old scar, one she gained when she fell from a tree and the cut never got looked at, and he presses a gentle kiss to it, a stark reminder of the love she never had that he so easily gives.

And he does, he loves her so easily, so deeply, so carefree. It makes her smile wide whenever she thinks about it; whenever she thinks about the love they share. The love they show to each other with every look, every gesture, every word, and every touch.

Like now, in the privacy of their sheets, he shows her his love with a brush of his thumb or a kiss to rid a bad she supposes he does, he gives each memory a new one, a happier one, one full of love that she's never had.

The gentle, quiet, intimate atmosphere is a contrast to the earlier rough, quick way they tore off each others clothes and consummated their relationship after so, _so_ long.

Initially, Killian had been adamant he wanted their first time to be slow, sweet, loving, however when she had stood in the living room with barely anything but a scrap of lace on, he couldn't help himself, he'd dragged her upstairs and, for the lack of a better term, shagged her into the mattress, and the wall…and quite possibly the floor too.

Emma watches each and every movement he makes, smiling when he presses his loving kisses, hand raking through his hair, occasionally stroking the scar on his cheek with the same amount of pure, unadulterated, _true_ love. Confirmed with an unfortunate trip to the Underworld and a lot of crying, mostly on her part but on his too, she knows he didn't like to cry in front of her.

He watches her face as his hand trails up and cups her breast, the globe a perfect fit, and he can't help but smile at the hum she allows to break through her lips, that only transforms into a moan when his own come to wrap around the sensitive bud of her nipple, letting his tongue give small, subtle flicks.

Her hand tugs on his hair lightly, and she gasps when his teeth graze her nipple, him smirking at her small breaths, hums and moans that erupt from her, loving every moment of making her come apart just with his mouth.

His mouth drops her nipple with a soft pop as he kisses up to her mouth, leaving little nips on her neck, sucking a love bite gently where he knows a turtleneck will hide it. She cups his cheek as he kisses her, mouths moving in sync, slow and sensual like they have all the time in the world.

(She supposes they do, they both turned off their phones, Henry is at Regina's for the weekend and every door is locked.)

They keep their kiss gentle and loving even when he slips inside her, pushing in so slowly so not to hurt her after how rough he had been before, looking in her eyes as he does to see her nod. He moves slowly, keeping their kiss with every careful thrust inside her, hands massaging her breasts to make her moan louder, calling his name within minutes as she finds her release, him chasing his own soon after.

Hours later, a long while after a few more rounds, each ranging from rough and hard to sweet and soft, they're cuddling under the sheets, whispering love to each other, smiling as they share stories and giggling for no reason other then they're happy.

As they're falling asleep, she feels him kiss her shoulder, whispering that he loves her, which she repeats with a giant grin, meaning every word and knowing he does too. He's her true love, through thick and thin, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, till death do them part.

Well, not even then.

* * *

 **This is the shortest and sweetest thing I have ever written, but I hope you liked! :)**


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